


The Clue

by missingnowrites



Series: Misfits [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Secrets, cameos of Trevor Alfredo and Fiona, vampire!Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnowrites/pseuds/missingnowrites
Summary: Five times Michael and Gavin rationalized Ryan's vampirism plus one time they finally figured it out. By accident.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Michael Jones, pre Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones
Series: Misfits [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/541201
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80





	1. 1, 2, 3

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get around to this! I meant to finish this part back in December, but life happened (and the writing muse was focussed on _Eclipse_ , so. Priorities :'D)

1)

Things were… different in the Haywood mansion. Gavin hesitated in calling them 'weird' just because they weren't what he was used to. For one thing they rarely saw the proprietor during the three days it took them to move in, mainly because the drive to New Jersey took a while.

The place came with its own furniture so they didn't need much of their own, which was a blessing. Gavin doubted his parents would allow him to take much from his room. That was the other reason it took so long: Gavin had to make triple sure he had everything he wanted to keep. Once he moved out there was no coming back.

There was one thing he brought, though. Michael gave him a _look_ when he mentioned it, but Gavin insisted.

"You owe me," Michael grumbled and grunted as he hefted his end of the couch. "Ratty old piece of shit. Why the fuck did you have to-"

Gavin tuned him out because they both knew why. It was the one thing Gavin saved up for for ages, a second hand sofa that cost many months of allowances and post-school jobs. It was the couch they had their first kiss on, and their first make-out session, too. Gavin wasn't leaving it behind for his parents to trash.

"Michael, what's the poor thing ever done to you, Michael," Gavin protested instead as they heaved the heavy thing over the doorstep.

"One, ruined my back more times than I can count," Michael offered, panting with effort. "Two, why the fuck is this thing so heavy, it makes no fucking sense whatsoever-"

"It's a bloody couch, Michael, of course it's heavy," Gavin interjected breathlessly, starting to get annoyed.

"And for number three," Michael talked over him, voice rising, "we still have to fucking carry it up the _fucking stairs_."

Gavin was going to reply to that, he had the perfect comeback on the tip of his tongue, he swore, except as he opened his mouth to deliver it he walked backwards into the bottom step of said stairs and all that came out was a surprised squawk. He stared at Michael's beautiful face as he stumbled backwards, watched his eyes widen and fill with panic in slow motion, like time had slowed down around him.

And hey, slow motion was really neat, maybe he could focus his cinematography major on slow motion, film his thesis project like that, he thought hysterically.

If, somehow, he survived being squashed by his own stupid couch that was.

That was going to be a hilarious cause of death, his brain pointed out, and Michael would make sure to write it on his tombstone. Gavin Free, died of his own stupidity. Squashed by the very ratty couch he insisted on moving.

Before this bizarre daydream (nightmare? daymare?) could become true, however, Gavin was saved by a hand smoothly sliding between his, steadying the couch. Gavin landed on his ass, sitting down heavily on the third step, teeth jarred by the sudden impact, gaze still locked with Michael's. Then, slowly, he blinked and the spell was broken.

"Thanks," Michael grunted, and Gavin followed his gaze to his saviour. Ryan shrugged with the shoulder not attached to the arm holding the couch up. Holding the couch up one-handed, Gavin realized in sudden awe, because in the other one he was holding a can of diet coke.

Ryan had to be hiding a hell of a lot of muscles under those loose shirts and pants, Gavin thought.

Belatedly, Gavin realized he should be saying something instead of staring. Michael was already looking at him with that particular frown to show he was getting a tad annoyed. But Gavin's brain was still stuck on the physics of the situation, the weight of the couch and how easy it was for Ryan to just… hold up. With one hand. And no strain far as Gavin could see.

"Yeah, uh," he stuttered, then cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to focus. "Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem," Ryan assured them, sipping from his can of coke all nonchalant, as if he weren't carrying the stupidly heavy couch with _one. Bloody. Hand._ Gavin didn’t think he’d get over that any time soon. “You, uh, do you need help with… this?”

“Sure,” Michael drawled, shooting Gavin a pointed look. “We could use some help.”

There was a moment of awkward, where Gavin held out a hand to take Ryan's coke and free up his other hand, while Ryan stared at him, uncomprehending. Like a Mexican stand-off, but with drinks and furniture instead of guns. Then Ryan said "Oh!", a little surprised noise, and offered Gavin the can with an awkward smile.

"Thanks." Ryan cleared his throat. "Uh, where to?"

"My room," Gavin piped up, waving with his can up the stairs. Then he remembered that Ryan couldn't possibly know how they split up the rooms between them. "Uh, this way."

Gavin led them up the stairs, opening the doors ahead of them and guiding them past some of the decor. He'd really rather not make his second (third?) impression by knocking over what looked like an expensive porcelain vase. The hallway wasn't wide enough for him to grab on to the side of the sofa to help with the weight.

By the time they reached Gavin's room Michael was sweating up a storm, but surprisingly silent as he gasped for breath. Gavin snuck a glance at Ryan to see him apparently unmoved by the physical exercise. No sweat stains on his shirt, not even a hair out of line. Gavin offered him his can back.

"Thanks for the help."

"Anytime," Ryan waved him off, taking a swallow of coke. He started walking away, then paused, half turning back to them. "Any other furniture you want to move in?"

Gavin flushed and ducked his head, shuffling his feet. There wasn't anything about bringing their own in the contract, right? He couldn't remember.

Michael, his breathing having calmed somewhat, but face still red from exertion, dragged a hand through his sweaty locks. "Nah, man. Just some bags, we'll be fine. Thanks."

“Alright.” Ryan hesitated for a second. “You know where the switch for the porchlight is? Sun’s mostly set by now, I can turn it on for you.”

Gavin perked up at that. It _had_ been pretty dim outside. “That’d be great.”

Together, they carried up the last of their possessions to their rooms, though Gavin had more than Michael, having brought all his books, games and old comics, anything he might miss whereas Michael just brought what he needed during the semester. Once done, Gavin sat gingerly down on his couch, keeping a side-eye on Michael, wondering if he was still mad about carrying the thing. Michael didn’t hesitate, though, plopping down next to Gavin without second thought. The annoyance had blown over somewhere in between the stairs accident and getting the rest of their things.

“Damn, he must be fuckin’ _ripped_ ,” Michael whistled, keeping his voice low. His shoulder bumped against Gavin’s, all casual, and Gavin felt himself relax. “Like, damn, did you _see_ that? Where did he even come from?”

"He was just there, like, _bam_!" A light giggle escaped Gavin before he could stifle it. “Michael, he wasn’t even breathing heavy, Michael.”

“Fucking shredded, I tell you.” Michael shook his head, raising his arm to flex and staring at Gavin deadpan. “Do you even lift, bro?”

Gavin fell into helpless giggles, gasping for breath, and Michael followed him into hilarity shortly.

He still couldn’t believe their landlord was that fit. Haywood mansion was way different than he expected.

* * *

2)

Michael was humming to himself as he pulled the dishes out of the dishwasher. Clean plates were stacked to one side, to be carried to their cupboard together later; silverware was dropped in the appropriate drawer; pots were double-checked to see if the crust dissolved proper. Everything went according to routine, and for once every dish seemed to have come out clean-

The humming cut out with a mental record scratch.

The mug he was holding was innocuous, really, heavy and white with a faded logo like so many of Ryan's collection. It wasn't the outside that caught Michael's attention, however. No, what had Michael stare with narrowed slits for eyes was the _inside_ of the cup. There, on the bottom of the mug, sat a sticky sort of goo, a dark, viscous substance that had solidified during the dishwasher's drying phase. When Michael scratched a nail over the surface, it came away in dark crimson flakes.  
  


"God fucking dammit, Gavin."

"Hm?" Gavin looked up from his notebook from where he was sitting at the kitchen table to study while Michael cleaned up, twirling a pen absently between his fingers. "What's up, boi?"

"What the hell is this!?"

Michael waved the mug in Gavin's face, who grimaced and leaned back. Then he squinted into the mug and gagged.

"Michael, what the- Eww! Michael, why."

“That’s what I want to know,” Michael grumbled, taking the dirty mug out of Gavin’s face when it looked like he might throw up for real. “Like, fuck. What the hell are you drinking to make this mess?”

“Why is this suddenly my fault?” Gavin protested, nose scrunching up. “It looks like congealed blood or something, why would I drink that shit?”

“Ugh.” Michael walked back over to the sink and sat the mug down, before squeezing a dollop of soap into it with prejudice. “I did not need that comparison, so thanks for that, I guess.”

“Maybe it’s that new energy drink you tried the other day,” Gavin suggested, raising his chin triumphantly. As if it couldn’t be his fault because Michael tried something new.

“One problem with that, dipshit,” Michael scoffed and turned on the water. “This isn’t the first time I cleaned up this mess. _Your_ mess.”

“Michael, boi, why would anyone drink something looking like _blood_ , boi?”

Michael narrowed his eyes at Gavin, ignoring as Ryan paused in the doorway to stare at them. He pointed a finger at Gavin after turning the water off, foam reaching the rim of the mug.

“I don’t know but I intend to find out.” He smirked at Gavin’s offended expression. “Don’t think I won’t, boi.”

“Uh.” Ryan took a hesitant step into the kitchen, eyeing both of them warily. His lips quirked up half-heartedly, as if inviting them to share the joke. “Who’s drinking blood?”

“No one!” Gavin exclaimed, throwing up his hands in disgust and nearly toppling his chair over. “Why would anyone?”

“Maybe you’ve converted to Satanism,” Michael sniped, waving off Ryan’s concerned look. “The dishwasher is having trouble cleaning some of the mugs. It’s not blood.”

Ryan carefully came closer, craning his neck to glance over Michael’s shoulder into the sink as he took a sponge and went at the mug with a vengeance. The foam quickly turned pink, small chunks of goo breaking off. Michael scraped them out off the cup and into the sink. He didn’t notice Ryan tense until Gavin tentatively spoke up.

“Ryan?”

Head snapping up, Michael turned to watch Ryan’s face run through a plethora of expressions - eyes widening, mouth gaping open, nostrils flaring, brow furrowing into a frown - before settling on something akin to sheepish.

“So, uh. I might… have an explanation for this?”

Michael dropped the mug and washed his hands, then turned off the water and gave Ryan his full attention, raised eyebrows included.

“Oh yeah? This better be good.”

Ryan scratched the back off his neck and didn’t quite meet his eyes, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

“I’ve been running some… experiments,” he offered, eyes darting up down to Michael’s and then off to the side. He cleared his throat, awkward silence dragging on as he seemed to search for the right words. “That, uh, that is to say… I may have used the mug because I didn’t have a clean bowl available in the lab?”

Michael closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

“New rule,” he declared and opened his eyes to pin Ryan in place. “Anything used in experiments? Does _not_ belong in the communal dishwasher. Understood?”

“It won’t happen again,” Ryan swore, raising his hand and crossing his heart, the dork. His expression exuded earnestness. “I promise. And uh, if it does, I’ll make sure to clean it in my lab…?”

“See that you do,” Michael agreed, crossing his arms. But he quirked his mouth into a smile to show Ryan he wasn’t mad. After all, this place was great, and Michael intended not to wear out his welcome anytime soon.

* * *

3)

Gavin saw his boyfriend pushing against the stream of students fleeing the lecture hall, and he had to duck his head, hiding his smile. It still felt exciting and new, calling him that. His boyfriend. They've dated for two years now in secret, and being out, being open about their relationship still stole his breath. So he waved Michael over to the group he was standing with and felt giddy joy spread through his chest.

"Sup, boi," Michael greeted him, brushing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Hey, boi." Gavin couldn't help the smile stretching across his face. "We're almost done here, if you got a minute."

"Sure, I can wait," Michael agreed with a careless shrug, wrapping an arm around Gavin’s waist. Fiona quirked an eyebrow at them, but didn’t comment.

“Okay, so if this week is out, what about Tuesday next week? I’ve got work after classes Monday,” Alfredo suggested while busy rifling through his bag.

“Works for me,” Gavin said, checking his calendar app.

“Can’t,” Trevor rejected the suggestion. “I’ve got band practice.” At their curious looks, he added with a bashful grin, “I play trumpet.”

“Huh,” they said in union, before breaking out into giggles and high fiving.

“Alright, Wednesday then,” Fiona continued, crossing her arms. “I’m free after five.”

They all looked at each other, but no one seemed to have an objection. Gavin nodded and marked the timeslot on his app. Then he glanced up and put the question out there, “Where?”

“Not our place,” Trevor said with a grimace, and Alfredo mirrored it. “The landlord’s renovating the flat next door, we can barely hear each other with all the noise.”

“Dude, you really, _really_ don’t want to do this at my flat,” Fiona objected before they could so much as look at her. “It’s a shoebox. A literal, damn shoebox.”

They turned as one to Gavin, who grimaced and exchanged a worried look with Michael.

“I guess we have the space, but…”

Michael wrinkled his nose and did a little gesture, a weird mix between a shrug and a nod.

“But, what?” Alfredo asked, curious.

“Well… so we’re staying with this guy out in the woods, right? And it’s great, innit, like, big place and minimal rent,” Gavin explained and his hands danced through the air as he did. “Except there’s some… rules. House rules. Kinda, uh, not normal rules.”

“Like… what?” Fiona asked, expression caught between a scowl and fascination.

“Hewantstomeetanyonebeforeweinvitethemin,” Gavin blurted out, then inhaled sharply.

“... come again?” Trevor inquired politely.

“He - the owner, the guy we’re renting from - is very particular about who gets into his house,” Michael took over the explanation, rolling his eyes. “So if we want to have people over, we need to introduce them before they’re allowed through the door.”

The three of them exchanged a cautious look.

“So, are you in a cult, or what?” Fiona asked, shooting them a dubious once over. Gavin laughed, a sharp exhalation and trailing off awkwardly.

“Nah, it’s just… it’s cheap, you know? Worth it.” Gavin wrapped his arms around himself and shrugged, trying to seem casual as he steered them back on topic. “What about the campus cafeteria? It’s open until seven.”

“That could work,” Trevor said slowly, still pinning Gavin and Michael with a scrutinizing stare. For a moment, Gavin’s afraid he won’t let it go, but then they turn back to the project organization, finagling who was gonna do which parts of the research before parting ways.

And if Gavin thought about it, he could kind of understand why. Ryan and his rules really did sound weird out of context, and from there it wasn’t too far to weirdo in the woods with something else going on. There wasn’t a mystery there to solve, however, and Gavin firmly pushed the thought to the back of his head.

“So, lunch?” Michael prodded, dragging Gavin with him as he moved towards the campus cafeteria. Gavin gave him a distracted smile.

“Sure.” Then, once they pushed through the doors leading to the courtyard- “Do you think Ryan’s part of a cult?”

“Cult of what?” Michael snorted, dropping his arm from around Gavin’s waist and catching his hand instead, entangling their fingers. “Isolationists?”

Gavin tried to muffle his giggles. “I guess that’d be weird, out there all alone and stuff.” A pause as he rolled the idea through his head. “It’d be the perfect meeting place though, wouldn’t it? All middle of nowhere, people will never hear your screams.”

“Aaand you’re back to the axe murderer theory,” Michael drawled, bumping their shoulders together. “Thought no self-respecting axe murderer wore reading glasses?”

“They’re spectacles, Michael! Spectacles!” Gavin gesticulated wildly with his hands, though one of them was constrained in its movements by holding on to Michael’s. “Michael, I can’t take him serious with those on, Michael.”

"They do fit his image of lab nerd," Michael mused, lips twisting into a wicked smile and eyes gleaming with mischief. "Don't think I didn't catch you staring when he showed up in the lab coat last night. You've got a type, Gavvy."

"What, secretly fit nerd?" Gavin felt his cheeks heat up and give him away. "I'm dating you, aren't I?"

Michael's smile softened and he pressed a quick kiss to Gavin's cheek. "Yeah. You are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part might take a couple weeks since I'm working on a couple prompts first, but it should be up some time late April/early May!


	2. 4, 5, +1

4)

Gavin was chopping the onions for the sauce while Michael stirred the rice and flipped the steaks, when Ryan stumbled into the kitchen. Cooking dinner on Wednesday nights had become something of a traditional date for them, something about the domesticity of it making Gavin giddy and Michael soft. They often ate at campus or ordered takeout, so deciding what dish to cook and experimenting with new meals felt pretty exciting.

Besides, Gavin got to hold Michael's hand at the store while they picked up groceries for the week, which was a definite plus.

They paused to look at Ryan when he stumbled past them, eyes half-lidded and hair mussed up from sleep. He ignored them, heading straight for the coffee machine. He slapped at the buttons and stared while the machine whirred, leaning against the counter, forehead pressed against the overhead cabinets. Michael and Gavin exchanged a long look. They’d learned pretty quickly to leave enough water and coffee beans in the coffee machine because Ryan forgot to check first every single time.

Once he’d fumbled for a clean mug and filled it with hot bean juice, Ryan turned to blink at them as if only just noticing them.

“G’mornin’,” he mumbled into his mug, taking a huge sip.

“Evening,” Michael drawled back, arching a judgemental eyebrow. A glance out of the window showed the sun had already set. Ryan grunted.

“Long day?” Gavin chimed in, an offer of sympathy. Ryan closed his eyes and sighed.

“Night shift,” he explained, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

"I thought you work from home?" Gavin asked, confused, as he passed the chopped onions off to Michael. Ryan blinked at him, clearly not quite awake yet.

"I do." A pause where he simply stared back at Gavin for what felt like an eternity. Then he took a sip from his coffee and the spell was broken. "But sometimes there are… circumstances. Under which experiments need to be done. That are dependent on… time."

"Like… what?" Gavin grabbed the plates to set the table, but paused in his work to stare curiously at Ryan.

"Like…" Ryan trailed off, rubbing a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. "Uh, with some experiments it's important _when_ something happens. Like, you have to wait for a reaction for a certain amount of time."

"So why didn't you start it earlier?" Gavin asked, stepping out of the way as Michael nudged him aside. "So you wouldn't have to work this late?"

Ryan stopped with the mug halfway to his mouth to stare at Gavin. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. He kept silent long enough for Gavin to worry the answer was really obvious and Ryan was trying to think of a way to tell him without calling him an idiot.

Instead Ryan ended up blushing.

"You, uh, you know that feeling when you're in the zone, and you don't really know nor care what time it is, and you just want to do that one thing real quick while you're at it?" Ryan ducked his head and scratched behind his ear. "That, uh. Yeah. That happens sometimes. A lot. So I end up working nights because I messed up the timing."

“So basically, your sleep schedule is fucked?” Michael chimed in, sounding amused. The pan hissed and Michael poked at the onions and chopped garlic bits, moving them around so they wouldn’t burn.

“Hey!” Ryan objected, but his protest was muffled by the mug as he chugged the rest of his coffee only to go for a refill. He started seeming a little more awake now.

“Ryan, I thought you were an adult, Ryan!” Gavin squawked, stuck between incredulous offense and hilarity. After all, Ryan was the landlord of a huge mansion, a certified scientist, _and_ rich. “You’re supposed to have your shit together, aren’t you?”

“ _Hey!_ ” Ryan exclaimed, but the expression on his face was sheepish rather than offended.

“So are you, technically,” Michael said, jabbing his elbow into Gavin’s side. “But you’re still a dumbass.”

“Hey!” Now it was Gavin’s turn to sputter in offense. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “So, are you calling Ryan a dumbass, too?”

Ryan groaned and sank down in one of the chairs without a plate set out in front of it, burying his face in his arms, half-full mug clutched securely in his hand. Laughing, Gavin give his head a quick pat, messing up his already mussed up hair, before quickly darting off to stir the rice. That way, Michael stood between him and Ryan’s glare, which he was fixing Gavin with one eye barely peeking over his arm.

“Well, duh.” Michael glanced over his shoulder to throw Ryan a smirk. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…”

With a huff, Ryan pushed away from the table, taking a much more measured drink from his coffee. He watched as Michael added tomatoes to the saucepan and Gavin washed off the rice before adding a serving next to the steaks on their plates. His brow arched up as Michael poured the boiling water from the veggie pot into the sizzling pan, creating enough fog to vanish in.

“...Gavin, can you take over?” Michael asked from within the cloud, taking several careful steps back and fishing his glasses off his face. “I did not think this through.”

“Sure thing, boi!” Gavin chirped, taking over stove duty. But Ryan was distracted from watching him as the scent started to register. His nose scrunched up, lips curling in disgust. Michael squinted at him, rubbing his glasses clean with the hem of his shirt.

“You alright over there?” Michael asked, bemused. Ryan was edging away from the table, mug clutched to his chest as if to safeguard his precious coffee.

“That… smells like garlic.”

"Well, yeah." Michael shot him a long look. “Because it is. Duh.”

“All the best dishes have garlic in them!” Gavin added cheerfully as he turned the stovetop off. “Trust me on this, I’m like, a quarter Italian!”

“His grandfather calls him ‘Gavino’,” Michael pretended to confess in a loud whisper, leaning over the table with a grin. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m… not a fan,” Ryan admitted, face pulling into a grimace, “let’s put it that way.”

“Who fucking doesn’t like garlic?” Michael sputtered. Ryan raised his chin with a haughty sniff.

“It’s not a matter of preference,” he declared, “but one of health.” He paused, shrugging one shoulder as he finished off his second mug of coffee. “Meaning, I’m allergic.”

“To what?” Michael asked, baffled. “ _Garlic_?”

“Ryan, that makes you sound like a vampire, Ryan!” Gavin giggled as he carried the finished sauce over. Ryan flinched back as he set it down on the table.

“It’s a real thing!” Ryan insisted, pointing at Gavin with his now empty mug. “Look it up!”

“Sure it is,” Michael drawled, exchanging a conspiratory look with Gavin before winking at Ryan. “Besides, it’s not like vampires exist.”

“Innit?” Gavin added, smirk stretching across his mouth. Ryan gave them both the stink eye, abandoning his empty mug and pushing away from the table with a screech of wood on tile.

“I should head into the lab,” he excused himself, gaze flickering between the two grinning idiots. Ryan shook his head. “Enjoy your dinner.”

* * *

5)

“How on Earth did Ryan manage to lift this?” Gavin grunted, his fingers slipping from how sweaty his palms had grown. “It’s bloody heavy!”

“How the fuck should I know?” Michael snapped, fingers white where he was gripping tight. But it was no use. The corner cupboard didn’t budge more than a half-inch away from the wall, and even that victory was hard won through blood and tears. “Shit.”

“Are you sure it was this cupboard Ryan moved?” Gavin asked, doubt written clear across his face as he let go, wiping his arm over his brow. “Like, there’s a dozen of these across the mansion, Michael boi, maybe this one’s just heavier than the others?”

“Fuck if I know,” Michael gasped, leaning against the wall. He eyed the drill bit where it had rolled behind the cupboard, almost all the way to the corner. He’d tossed it into the drill case with the other bits, but as if to taunt him, it had bounced right back out and rolled all the way until it dropped down to where he couldn’t reach it.

The room he’d turned into his workshop was one of many empty ones in the same wing as their bedrooms. Ryan had caught him working on one of his proof of concepts for his engineering lab out in the barn the third week in, and had told him to just convert one of the unused rooms inside the mansion. He figured he’d be grateful come winter, since the barn was big and windy.

“Don’t you have another you can use?” Gavin whined, rubbing at his aching fingers.

“No, dipshit, they’re all different sizes.” Michael stuck his arm as far as he could behind the cupboard, wiggling his fingers. He couldn’t even reach halfway. “Fuck. Maybe we should try to empty it first?”

Gavin reached out and rattled the door, grimacing. “They’re locked. I guess we could ask Ryan for the keys? Or help-” Gavin shot Michael a skeptical side-eye. “-since apparently he can lift these super easy, can’t he.”

“I doubt he’s _that_ ripped.” Michael snorted and shook his head. A glance out the window revealed a sunny autumn day. “‘Sides, he’s probably still sleeping, the weirdo.”

Gavin hummed in agreement, eyeing the cupboard speculatively. “Maybe if we had some sort of lever…”

Michael shrugged, tucking his fingers between cupboard and wall and pulling. It budged less than half an inch. Ryan had made it look fucking easy, just lifting the stupid thing up an inch and pulling it out. That was in the first week they’d lived here, and to be fair Michael couldn’t recall if it had been _this_ specific corner cupboard, even if the niggling feeling in the back of his head wouldn’t let go.

But no one was that strong. Well, no one normal, no matter how much they worked out. And he’d yet to catch Ryan working out, for that matter.

Meanwhile, Gavin had left him to his own devices, but after several fruitless tugs he returned with a broom from the supply closet. Michael was just about to say screw it and just ask Ryan for help later, whether that was with muscles or a key to the damn thing.

“For leverage!” Gavin declared, grinning as he waved the stick around.

“Fuck that noise,” Michael said, snatching the broom from Gavin’s hands. A thought occurred to him. “This looks slim enough to fit behind the fucking stupid cupboard…”

It took some time and some finagling, but they did managed to slowly push the drill bit closer and closer to the open end, Gavin cheering him on and giving him bullshit advice in turns. And if he was honest, Michael was kinda glad that they didn’t need to go to Ryan for help. No matter how secretly shredded he was or whatever. They were all grown up, living on their own for the first time, they could do this. Like adults. Without help.

Victorious, Michael held up the drill bit, nearly losing it again as Gavin tackled him in a hug.

* * *

+1)

It was on a lazy Sunday like any other that they found out. Gavin and Michael were lying about in the living room, to play games with Michael’s brand-new wireless controllers on Ryan’s big TV. Currently, Michael was slaughtering Gavin in Super Smash Bros, but Gavin had a plan: while Michael was focussed on the screen, he inched closer and closer. The moment he managed to hit Michael off the platform, he pounced, snatching Michael’s controller from his hands and leaping off the couch.

On screen, Michael’s avatar fell into the abyss and died.

“Don’t you fucking dare- Gavin!” Michael shouted, and Gavin squeaked as he grabbed for him, ducking under his boyfriend’s arm and bolting around the couch to keep it between them. “You fucking cheater, give it back!”

“Michael, don’t be mean, Michael!” Gavin danced back as Michael lunged for him. With a grin, he held his trophy aloft, waving the controller in the air before miming tossing it over Michael’s head. Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“You fucking dumbass, don’t fucking think-”

He threw the controller as hard as he could, and Michael jumped to catch it out of the air. He missed it by several inches, and it crashed to the floor behind him. Both of them winced, staring at the controller. It appeared unharmed.

“Oh, it’s on now,” Michael growled, and Gavin’s eyes widened. “Come here, you little-”

As if on a previously agreed on cue, they both dashed off, out of the door and around to the front of the house. Gavin squawked as Michael swiped for him, his fingers brushing Gavin’s arm. Zig-zagging, Gavin feinted to the left before darting off to the right, taking the stairs up three at a time. Going by the crashing and cursing, Michael was right behind him.

Briefly, Gavin considered running to their shared bedroom, let himself get cornered there for some fun. Then his competitiveness reared its head, and he ran down the opposite hallway.

“Don’t think you’ll get away with that, Gavvers! I’m gonna fucking catch you!”

Giggling, Gavin dodged around the corner, Michael hot on his heels. A quick look around showed a door to his left, and Gavin quickly pushed it open and ducked inside. But he wasn’t fast enough to shut it, Michael crashing into the door an inch before it closed. Squawking, Gavin leaned his entire weight against the door. Michael, however, was simply stronger than him; the door got pushed wider open inch by inch.

“Michael, don’t be a mong, Michael,” Gavin called out, followed by a breathless giggle.

“I’ll show you a fucking mong,” Michael grunted, and with one last heave managed to open the door far enough to squeeze through. Squealing, Gavin jumped back, whirling around to look for an escape. The room was filled with counters and tables, but there was another door in the back. Gavin threw his weight forward, Michael’s fingers brushing his shoulder as he stumbled.

However, Michael had learned and snatched a hold of his t-shirt.

The sudden tug had Gavin squawk and careen around, tripping over his own feet to crash into the counter. Michael was on him not a second later, pinning him down. Panting, Gavin squirmed, but only managed to wiggle his ass against Michael’s dick.

“Gotcha,” Michael gasped into his ear, and Gavin’s giggles turned into a high-pitched whine.

“No fair, boi. Lemme go, boi.”

“No fucking way.” Michael laughed, pressing closer and pushing Gavin’s chest flat onto the countertop. Gavin’s breathing hitched, and he braced himself with his elbows, glancing over his shoulder at Michael. Michael smirked at him, eyes half-lidded. “I caught you fair and square,” he whispered, nipping at Gavin’s ear, “so I get to fucking do with you whatever I fucking want.”

“No fucking in the kitchen,” Gavin gasped out, even as he arched into Michael.

“Not in the fucking kitchen,” Michael grumbled, emphasizing his point by biting into the joint of neck and shoulder. “Moron.”

Gavin hummed agreeably, clearly distracted by gyrating his hips against Michael’s growing hardness. Then he blinked, as if the words finally penetrated the fog of lust and adrenaline, and he looked around, up at the cupboards and down the counter he was bent over. Now that he thought about it, it made sense that this wasn’t the kitchen. Michael had chased him up the stairs and down several halls, and the kitchen was, after everything, still downstairs. That did beg the question, though…

“Then where are we?”

"Don't know, don't care," Michael muttered, words muffled by Gavin's skin under his lips as he mouthed along his throat. However, Gavin’s curiosity was piqued now, squirming around until Michael backed off enough for him to turn around. Michael huffed, attaching his lips to Gavin’s throat in retaliation, while Gavin craned his head to see several strange machines strewn across the countertops and tables filling the room.

“Okay, but, Michael, I think we’re in Ryan’s lab, Michael,” Gavin said, breath escaping him as Michael pushed a leg between his two.

“And I should care, why?” Michael bit out, and then bit Gavin’s lower lip.

It took Gavin a long moment, distracted as he was by kissing Michael, before he could gather his thoughts enough to remember.

“Michael, we’re not allowed in here, Michael,” he murmured against Michael’s lips, mouthing along his boyfriend’s jaw and sucking his earlobe between his teeth. Michael hummed, his hands finding and then kneading Gavin’s butt.

“So? Ryan’s not here.” Michael punctuated his point with a thrust of his hips, rubbing himself against Gavin’s leg.

“Exactly!” Gavin bounced excitedly on his feet, forcing Michael to take a half step back. “What better time to explore?”

“Or we could keep making out,” Michael pointed out reasonably. But he’d lost Gavin now, and he knew it.

“But boi, look at all these fancy machines! What do they do, do you think?” Gavin gasped, clapping his hands together. “Do you think he has a DNA analyzer in here?”

“How should I know?” Michael shot back, but followed Gavin gamely as the other poked around, trying to figure out the machines. A glance out the windows showed the sun had set a while ago, and Michael blinked, looking up to the ceiling. Fluorescent tubes lit up the room. “Uh, Gavin? Maybe we should go. We don’t know when Ryan will be back.”

“But, Michael, boi.” Gavin pouted, stopping his fiddling with the dials on a white, square machine of unknown purpose. “This stuff is fascinating, boi!”

“Yeah, and we really shouldn’t fucking push our lu-”

Michael cut himself off, cocking his head. He could’ve sworn he’d heard humming… but there were no footsteps so he figured it had to be one of the machines. Gavin had moved on to sticking his head into closet, when the door rattled.

They both whipped around, seeing the handle pushed down, but the door got stuck, bent slightly out of shape from their earlier roughhousing.

“Oh shit,” Gavin blurted out, paling rapidly. Michael stared at him, feeling blood leave his face, too. But looking at Gavin, he could see the closet behind him, and it seemed big enough-

“In, in, go,” he hissed, hurrying over to Gavin and pushing him into the closet before ducking in after him. Closing the door after them was more complicated but they managed after several long seconds of panic. Then they crouched there, eyes wide and hearts hammering away at their chests, straining to hear any tell-tale noises.

No footsteps, but there was a barely there sound of shifting clothes, and then the sound of a mug being set down. This was followed by the noise of some cupboard being opened and the clinking of glassware against porcelain or wood.

‘What do you think he’s doing?’ Gavin mouthed, or at least Michael guessed that was what he was trying to convey. He simply shrugged and pressed a finger against Gavin’s lips to remind him to keep quiet.

Some part of him thought they were being silly, that they should come out and simply apologize to Ryan, explain that they’d gotten lost during their little chase game. Another, larger part of him was frozen because Ryan didn’t have many rules and he could arguably kick them out for breaking. And then they’d be stranded in the middle of the forest and stuck trying to find somewhere else to bunk.

Heart in his throat, he gestured for Gavin to stop fidgeting and gently pushed at the closet door, trying to peek through the slit. Ryan was standing at the countertop, sipping from his coffee mug and poking at one of the machines Gavin had messed with, a frown on his face. In the bright fluorescent light the liquid looked more red than brown.

Something was wrong about his face. Michael couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but… Something was off.

It made Michael hesitate.

“What is it?” Gavin whispered, and Michael flinched. His shoulder hit the door, and to his horror, the door swung open, slamming against the wall with a loud crash.

“What the-” Ryan sputtered, and heart hammering in his throat, Michael tumbled out of the closet, followed closely by Gavin.

“Ryan, sorry, Ryan,” Gavin was babbling even as they helped each other up. “We didn’t mean to end up in your lab, kinda weren’t looking where we were going wh-”

Gavin cut off with a sharp inhale, and Michael glanced up from brushing off his pants in the vein hope he could avoid eye contact for a little longer. At first he wasn’t sure what had startled Gavin into silence, but when he turned to look to Ryan, the question died on his lips and his throat dried up.

Ryan had clearly been in the middle of taking a sip, mug still halfway raised. When the door slammed open, it must have startled him, because the liquid was splattered all over the lower half of his face, lab coat and shirt. Except, it wasn’t the brown of coffee, not a trick of light, but--

Bright, crimson blood. Fresh blood.

Wide eyed, Michael lifted his gaze to meet Ryan’s.

Crimson eyes stared back at them, teeth bared in a horrible grimace. And as he spoke, his voice a deep, growling threat, the canines elongated into fangs, dropping passed his lips, long and pointy.

“Run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger? :'D I wanted it to flow smoothly into The Chase after this (until I go back and write the getting together fic, which will then absolutely spoil Chase so *shrugs*) Hope you liked it!
> 
> (also keep an eye out for possible bonus scene?? not sure if it'll fit in a new installment so I might just add it here to this one *facepalms* because the moment I posted this I had a better idea for a Scene V and I still haven't stopped regretting not finding those old notes earlier)


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